A Valentine Wedding Read Free

before saying diffidently, “Your brother, ma’am, made provision for Lord Alasdair to be compensated for his efforts on your behalf. His lordship is to receive a yearly stipend of …” he shuffled through his papers. “Five thousand pounds … yes, that was it. Five thousand pounds.”
    Emma took another turn around the salon, her step agitated, her color fluctuating. “It is
intolerable,”
she said, but it was clear to her audience that she had herself well in hand.
    “Oh, surely you don’t begrudge me such a paltry sum, Emma!” Alasdair complained with a raised eyebrow. “You won’t even notice it, dear girl. And I do assure you, I shall earn it.”
    She spun around on him. “And just how do you intend to earn it?”
    He smiled. “By ensuring that your fortune grows apace. I have some small talent, as Ned knew very well.”
    “How could you possibly have any knowledge of investments, and the Exchange, and cent per cents, or whatever they’re called?” Emma demanded. “You’ve never had a feather to fly with.”
    “True enough.” He folded his arms and regarded her with a half smile. “My esteemed sire, as we all know, was not a thrifty gentleman.”
    “Bad blood,” muttered Lord Grantley. “Came from his mother. Bad blood in all the Bellinghams. Hardened gamesters, the lot of ’em. Saw your grandmotherlose six thousand guineas at one sitting. And your father was the same.”
    “The matter of my penury is thus explained,” Alasdair agreed blandly. “The youngest son of a hardened gamester …” He shrugged. “However, I wonder if we’re not wandering off course a little here.”
    Emma was silent. Alasdair’s father, the earl of Chase, had been a vicious tyrant. A drunkard and a gamester who had fallen from his horse late one night on his way back from a card party and broken his neck, leaving an estate mortgaged to the hilt and more debts than a king’s ransom could have settled. Alasdair, the youngest of three sons, had not a penny to his name. Not that you would ever guess that from looking at him, she thought. He lived like a wealthy man, but how she couldn’t imagine.
    “I wouldn’t begrudge it if Ned left you twenty thousand pounds,” she said impatiently. “You were his closest friend … closer than any brother could have been. But I absolutely
refuse
to accept your authority over my expenditures. Am I to ask you for my quarterly allowance? Ask permission if I wish to set up my stable? Have you approve all my household expenses?” She glared first at Alasdair and then at the lawyer.
    “My dear Emma, I’m sure that Lord Alasdair will be everything that’s accommodating,” said Maria, rising from her armless chair. “And you don’t want to be worrying about finances yourself. It’s so … so unfeminine. Much better to leave such sordid details to a man. Men have much better minds for dealing with such matters. I’m sure dear Ned knew that he was taking care of your interests … just until you get married.” She came over and laid a hand onEmma’s arm. “Maybe you should lie down on your bed and rest for a little before dinner.”
    “Since when have you known me to need to rest before dinner, Maria?”
    “Well, to be sure, never,” the lady said. “But this has been a very trying afternoon for you.”
    “An understatement,” Emma said shortly. She addressed the lawyer. “Well, sir. Do you have answers to my questions? How much authority has my brother invested in Lord Alasdair?”
    The lawyer rubbed his mouth with his fingertips. “By the very nature of the trust, ma’am, the trustee must review all expenses,” he said hesitantly. “But there is no other area of jurisdiction.”
    “Oh, how fortunate. I am not obliged to gain his consent to my marriage, for instance?” she inquired sardonically. “Or to where I might choose to live?”
    The lawyer shook his head and sounded quite shocked as he said, “No, indeed not, Lady Emma. You are of age.”
    Emma